In your hands, my fate
by Freya's Valhalla
Summary: Mito expected many things of Hashirama Senju. What she was met with though, was a different matter altogether. Of arranged marriages and first meetings. Oneshot. Light-hearted.


**Well, I swear I wrote this in an hour, so it's probably not my best work, but it just hit me and came out like that, so here it is. My take on Hashirama and Mito's first meeting.**

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 _I believe in a moment. A moment when you glimpse the truth within someone, and they glimpse the truth within you_

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When duty finally knocks on Mito's life, she meets the offer with silence, but bows her head in acknowledgment with all the grace she can gather. She's been chosen to be the wife of Senju Hashirama and as rumor spreads among her household, she's able to somewhat flesh out the man she is to marry.

"He can spring a forest with a flick of his hand."

"He can battle a hundred Uchiha and never grow tired."

"They say he's been sent by the Kami themselves."

Most whispers turn out to be far from true, of course, but Mito weeds out the underlying message: Senju Hashirama is a force to be reckoned with. She spends the weeks leading to her journey westward to the Land of Fire studying the history and traditions of his people, even though as an Uzumaki, she's known of the blood ties between their clans since she was scarce a girl. Her handmaid, a bright child eager to serve and quick to speak, confides her concerns to Mito.

"I hope he's a good man at least, Princess. Shinobi are hardened by war, their hands made for killing, it is known," she claims, running a comb through Mito's long tresses.

Mito is about to tell her that war hardens all, but she stops himself. This girl is too young to remember the horrors of invasion, how Uzushiogakure was almost wiped to the ground by enemies looking to steal their sealing techniques.

Her handmaid is but the first one to voice her opinion on Mito's impending nuptials as the days go by. Family, friends and teachers, all find their way to Mito at some point to offer advice. The stories change, but the moral remains: Hashirama is a powerful man who commands respect. As his wife, Mito should strive for greatness as well. Mito silently curses her fate, for she might have been raised a Lady to please the world, but has not an inch of lady-likeness in her soul. She put a smile on her face and thanked them for their council. As their hopes in her grew, so did Mito's expectations towards Hashirama.

Every night, as she lay on the futon of her room before sleep took her, moonlight shining in the paleness of her skin, she pondered. What will his voice sound like? Would he be handsome to look at? She had, after all, to bear his children. But overall, she wondered, will they be happy together?

Despite having known all her life that she would most likely succumb to an arranged marriage, it was strange now, to finally put a name to the man she'd spend the rest of her life with when he was but a stranger. She'd close her eyes, then, and imagine Hashirama having the same thoughts.

When the day finally came for Mito to depart from her homeland, her handmaid pressed a kunai to her palm just as the marqueist was applying the last strokes of ink to her skin. Uzumaki might not be warriors in the broadest sense, but Uzumaki Mito would not leave the Land of Whirlpools without carrying an arsenal of seals on her flesh. If something were to happen, she'd make good use of her Fuinjutsu mastery.

"For protection, in case… well, in case your husband is not so kind," the girl staggered, and her anxiety touched Mito so that she did not have the heart to tell her that if Hashirama laid an undesirable hand on her, a kunai to his throat would be the least of his worries. The poor girl was oblivious to the power of the seals Mito wore on her skin.

The journey was light and free of trouble, and through it all, Mito kept conjuring images of Hashirama in her head, of a seasoned warrior clad in full armor, of a man who against all odds, had bent the defiant will of the Uchiha towards peace. It was no surprise then, that Mito almost made a fool of herself when they finally made it to Konoha and were welcome by the Senju in front of the village's grandiose reed doors. There were six of them, but only three were of young age, and one of them a woman.

Her gaze fell to the white haired man standing between them, his eyes the deepest color of crimson. His arms were folded over his shinobi attire and he took in the sight of the Uzumaki entourage with a stern and solemn face. _So that's him,_ she thought. She bowed and was about to pay her respects to her future husband when the man next to him gave the Uzumaki a big smile and spread his arms wide in greeting, the sleeves of his haori dancing with the motion of his hands.

"Please be welcome, cousins, we are so very grateful you were able to make it to Konoha so soon!" His eyes shone as he gestured towards his surrounding companions, "This is my cousin Toka," he pointed, "and my younger brother, Tobirama," he patted his back with familiarity, "and I am of course, Hashirama."

For all of her training, Mito was not able to keep her face serious, all trace of elegance gone. She stared at Hashirama dumbfounded. _No way_ , she thought, this could not be the "great" man she'd been told about, beaming like a child, loud as they came. As the Uzumaki drew near them, exchanging pleasantries with the Senju elders and brothers, Mito stood frozen in place and surveyed Hashirama with caution.

He wore his hair loose, dark locks cascading over his shoulders and was dressed in a simple white haori with contrasting dark pants. She watched him bow his head in respect at every Uzumaki and laugh lightly at all of their attempts at flattery, dismissing such formalities. As her kin engaged in conversation with the elders, she saw Hashirama finally rest his gaze on her and their eyes locked. She swore she could see him blush faintly. Next to him, Tobirama only glanced at her once to give her a curt bow before turning his attention towards the conversation being held around him. She held her hands together as Hashirama walked towards her.

What she did expect by then, Mito wasn't sure, seeing as everything she'd envisioned of Hashirama was crumbling to pieces, but when he tripped over a tree root, stumbling a bit to steady his footing least he fall head first in front of the Uzumaki princess, Mito had to cover her mouth with one hand to stop herself from laughing. Above all, the irony of the mighty Hashirama being tripped over by the nature he was supposed to command, was not lost to her. His head snapped towards her then, his face redder than before as he cleared his throat.

"You must have the worst impression of me, Princess," he surmised with a nervous laugh, one hand rubbing at the back of his head, "I'm so sorry you have to marry an idiot, but please bear with me."

Mito's hand fell to her side and she allowed herself to smile. Instead of bowing, she held out her right hand to him, like she knew shinobi did to seal treaties, and marriage was the biggest of commitments after all. Hashirama looked at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement and offered his right hand in return with the widest of smiles gracing his features. Mito remembered her handmaid then, as she met the warmth of her husband-to-be reaching out to her and thought that she'd been wrong. Hashirama's hands did not seem made for killing.

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 **I love these two, I think they deserve more attention, what about you? Reviews are appreciated :)**


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